Rigel Befalls Them
by Wafflez
Summary: Literati (R/J...I mean, nothing else would be worth it).
1. Default Chapter

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing of the Gilmore Girls, though I wish I owned Jess..It wouldn't be a good thing, though, since Palladino writes him much more beautifully than I ever could. Oh, also, all the conversation is from the show. I didn't want to try and reproduce anything and have it not sound like them. Another thing: this story will be following the show (since I REALLY like where it's headed.YAY Rory & Jess!!!!!!) so it won't be too long. God, I love spoilers!! Ok, now on to the story!!  
  
"Sweet surrender is all that I have to give." -Sarah McLachlan.  
  
She sensed the warmth, the reprieve. It was a temporary release from the vapid coldness in which she existed. That flame eternally hovered, though, just within her grasp, just barely beyond it. Oh to cave, she thought. To cede all power and be embraced by such gentle comfort. For she had fought so much, she had denied and deceived herself.or had she really? Had she been successful, she would not have arrived at the brink, teetering, anxiety and sheer desire streaming through her veins. Perched on the edge, she wanted to soar. She craved the freedom that falling would allow her. To simply sink, drowning in that sea of scintillating safety. It was raw yearning flowing through her: pure, untouched and potent.  
  
The warmth tempted her yet again, coming into her vicinity, reaching out and caressing her, daring her to taste its proffered sanctuary. She looked at those twinkling orbs, reflecting her in their surface and one simple, heartfelt, true admission was her undoing.  
  
"Just wanted to." penetrated her senses, lingering for the briefest moments as she deciphered their import. Something latent stirred violently within her, propelling her towards.warmth. Her Apollo.  
  
Senses reeling, she breathed into him, communicating all her repressed longing, her confusion, her determination and her simple need of him. Her lips were tasting his, her fingertips felt hi,; he was here. In all his sarcastic glory, he was here and the coldness dissipated. He responded, his lips tasting hers in turn, his arms closing around her, encasing her in this shining halo of splendour. Yet suddenly, she had lost her security. Safety and reason had momentarily deserted her and as niggling control seeped back into her mind, she hesitantly withdrew, every nerve-ending in her protesting at her traitorous action of retreat. She gazed into his eyes, seeing her raging emotions mirrored there. Sweeteness before her very eyes.  
  
And reality shattered her beatific idyll.  
  
"Oh my God! Oh my God!" Stark horror slashed through her as she succumbed to realisation.  
  
"Don't say a word!" she ordered, detesting the idea of some sardonic comment slipping from those lips with which she had just dallied. Regret pierced her as she turned away; regret that she was abandoning him here while she returned to the realm of the lonely. In her haste, she remembered and quickly turned her head, welcoming him home. 


	2. Chp 2

DISCLAIMER: Same as before and I included some of Anne Rice's work.  
  
"Understand what you see when you see me."  
  
Anne Rice, "The Vampire Lestat"  
  
  
  
The sun filtering through the small windows of the former office fell upon the pages his eyes roamed. For some reason he had felt a sudden compulsion to thrust himself once again into the world of Anne Rice's vampires. Perhaps it was because he had seen the video for "The Queen of the Damned" in the store a few days past. Such a travesty of a movie, despite its worthy soundtrack.  
  
He flicked a page, the name of Pandora leaping out at him. Images of Rory swirled in his head. He forced them down, willing himself not to invoke the memory of her eyes, vast blue wells, or of her lips, feather-soft like a bed. His jaws clenched and he persevered with his reading, Pandora's hair was brown, like Rory's.  
  
Sighing, he turned yet another page, his eyes falling upon the words:  
  
"Yet in love we'll take you And in rapture we'll break you."  
  
Wasn't that exactly what had befallen him? Perhaps not. Maybe she had not taken him in love. But rapture, he thought with a slight smile, that had certainly been rapture. To have Rory kiss him, to have HER kiss HIM, when he had come to accept that it would only be the other way around, had vindicated every reason he had had for returning. Her.  
  
New York had been more than a welcome surprise. It had been the solidification of every hope he had never dared to entertain. In that wallowing mass of human population, she had found him on his park bench; she had brought purpose to his day. And all because she had not said "Goodbye". Truth be known, "goodbye" was a word he wished never to utter to her. It was so final; it was severing himself from the one beautiful human being with whom he had formed this intangible, refreshing connection. After giving him reason to hope, after giving him breath and a taste of what he swore was his definition of ambrosia, she had departed, without even so much as a farewell. Of course, he reasoned, that could have been payback for the way in which he'd left but he had hurt her. He had convinced himself that she did not need him. She had proven him wrong. She had not hurt him with her uncharacteristic behaviour; she had given him a reason to smile. Her leaving, however, was a different scenario.  
  
He sighed. He knew why. Bag Boy. Lorelai. His fingers slid down the edge of the book, reminding him of his fingers on her face. Coldness enveloped him and he threw the book down, needing to leave the diner. He knew where he was headed and he knew why. Distraction, plain and simple. Distraction was his only solace. Strolling on the sidewalk, he laughed at himself. Shane. Blonde, wavy-haired, curvy Shane. The antithesis of Rory. She worked in a cosmetic store. Books? Her favourite reading material probably fell in the vein of Cosmo or Elle. And not for the articles, either. She was no Rory- precisely what he needed now.  
  
"Hey," she smiled at him as he entered the store.  
  
"Hi," he replied, leaning over the counter to mesh his lips with hers.  
  
That's all this is, he decided, his body enjoying the mindless activity. Physical contact. Not a union of souls. 


	3. Chp 3

DISCLAIMER: Check Chp 1 or the Default Chp, whatever they're calling it. By the way, I know I said the conversation is taken from Gilmore Girls and for the most part, it is. . . just not the hi and hey thing between Shane and Jess last chapter.  
  
"What a wicked game we play."  
  
Chris Isaak  
  
  
  
Her eyes settled on the tops of the clouds pontifically suspended just below the plane's belly. The rays of light dancing on their white surfaces reminded her of the delicate threads of sun that had surrounded Jess and herself that day. It had, she mused smilingly, been an aureolic setting.  
  
Her gaze returned to the almost blank sheet of paper before her. Almost blank. "Dear Jess" had embroidered that piece of paper for as long as she could remember now. Letters, she had received but she was yet to post one. There had been only one person with whom she had felt the need to communicate and she had not. She had spent hours staring at that white sheet, thoughts revolving in her brain and she still had not expressed them. Despite secluding herself in a closet while Paris had enjoyed the experience of a date for the first time, the words still would not come. It was past time now, though. In a few minutes, she would be on the ground, ending her sojourn away from Stars Hollow. A mixture of anxiety and excitement dominated her feelings.  
  
*******************  
  
She was home and she felt. . .almost whole. Washington, she concluded, did nothing for her soul. Having agreed that they would go to the summer fair, her mother was allowing her time to change. She smiled as she looked at the dress she had chosen, hoping that it would suit her; hoping that he would like her appearance in it. She so desperately wanted to see him after weeks of deprivation that she could not be bothered with her mother's observation about her choice of clothing.  
  
Now in the centre of the town, she frowned, her eyes taking in every detail around her. Disappointment filled her Perhaps she should have known better. Perhaps she should have known that he would not deign (she smiled) to make an appearance at such an event. Perhaps. her thought disintegrated at the sight assailing her senses.  
  
Against a tree, in view of the entire town and probably oblivious to that fact as well, those same lips from which she had sipped were tangling passionately with another pair. Lacerated, she could not help but stare, the hurt silently wracking her body.  
  
LORELAI:"Guess you dodged a bullet there, huh?"  
  
RORY: "What do you mean?"  
  
LORELAI: "I don't know. It seems kind of lucky that you didn't throw everything away for Jess when you see. . ."  
  
RORY: "See what? What am I seeing?" She knew perfectly well what she was seeing but some part of her mind refused to acknowledge it; refused to realise that he was really doing this after everything that had happened.  
  
LORELAI: "You're upset."  
  
RORY: "No, I'm not upset." Who was she trying to fool? This was her mother, her best friend.  
  
LORELAI: "Yes, you are upset. I know when you're upset 'cause you look like my mother."  
  
RORY: "Thanks a lot."  
  
LORELAI: "You like my mother."  
  
RORY: "Yes, but you don't like your mother, so when you tell me that I look like your mother, it's not exactly a compliment."  
  
LORELAI: "Honey, what is wrong?"  
  
RORY: "Oh God!" What was wrong? What was so diabolically wrong was occurring metres away from them. Was it not obvious what was wrong?  
  
LORELAI: "What is it?"  
  
RORY: "It's that!"  
  
LORELAI: "Jess?"  
  
RORY: "Yes!"  
  
LORELAI: "You're upset about Jess?"  
  
RORY: "I said yes."  
  
LORELAI: "Yes, it's Jess?"  
  
RORY: "You're not being funny."  
  
LORELAI: "It's not my fault that yes and Jess rhyme. Did I exploit the opportunity, of course I did, but . . .Rory, come on. I know you had this crush -"  
  
RORY: "It wasn't a crush." Mayhap her mother thought she was denying its existence, but Rory knew it for what it was. "Crush" was so inadequate, such a deprecating word for what it was.  
  
LORELAI: "Well, I thought it was over. I mean, you haven't talked to him since -"  
  
RORY: "Sookie's wedding."  
  
LORELAI: "You talked to him at Sookie's wedding?"  
  
RORY: "Yes."  
  
LORELAI: "He wasn't at Sookie's wedding."  
  
RORY: "Yes, he was. He had just come back and he came to see me."  
  
LORELAI: "Okay, so he crashed Sookie's wedding, and. . ."  
  
RORY: "And nothing. He told me that he was back in town, that he'd moved back, and. ". . Her mother would freak. She knew it. Yet at the same time, it was deception and she already felt so guilty about so many things.  
  
LORELAI: "What Rory? Come on."  
  
RORY: "And we kissed, okay?"  
  
LORELAI: "You kissed?"  
  
RORY: "Yes." There. She had confessed, to the person least likely to be overjoyed about it.  
  
LORELAI: "You kissed, like. . .you kissed?"  
  
RORY: "Yes."  
  
LORELAI: "Okay, who kissed who?"  
  
RORY: "What does that matter?" Did she REALLY have to know?  
  
LORELAI: "Because it matters. Did he kiss you, did you kiss each other, did you trip and your faces accidentally -" .  
  
RORY: "I kissed him."  
  
LORELAI: "Okay."  
  
RORY: "And I don't know, I thought he came back here because he liked me or something, and I kissed him and he kissed me back, and now he's over there and I feel so stupid and. . .that girl isn't even his type and." It's true. She's not.  
  
LORELAI: "Rory, what are you doing?"  
  
RORY: "What do you mean, what am I doing? I'm ranting. You should recognize this, I learned it from you."  
  
LORELAI: "Yeah, but you went to Sookie's wedding with. . .with Dean."  
  
RORY: "I know."  
  
LORELAI: "And then you ran off to have some thing with Jess."  
  
RORY: "It was a kiss, not a thing." Did she have to demean it? It was a kiss, with Jess, which made it more than merely a kiss.  
  
LORELAI: "A kiss is a thing."  
  
RORY: "Well, it wasn't planned, it just happened."  
  
LORELAI: "I can't believe it. All this time I'm thinking, 'She's with Dean.' "  
  
RORY: "I am with Dean."  
  
LORELAI: "No, Rory - kissing another guy is not being with Dean. Ask him, I bet he'd back me up on that."  
  
RORY: "It was nothing." The proof of that was before her, jammed up against a poor, innocent tree.  
  
LORELAI: "Well, then why are you so freaked out?"  
  
RORY: "I'm not freaked out."  
  
LORELAI: "Look, kid, you have gotta make up your mind. Jess, Dean, Jess, Dean - it's enough already. If you want Jess, that's fine - go get him, there he is. If you think that's the great love of your life, then great. . .grab a liver treat and a squeaky toy and run to him. Don't worry about that girl because I'm sure he will have moved onto somebody else in about an hour. But do something. Dean has been sweet and supportive and incredibly patient, and now you are officially treating him like dirt, and I'm sorry, but not only is that not you, he doesn't deserve that. God, I wish they knew another song!"  
  
RORY: "I know all of this about Dean."  
  
LORELAI: "You do?"  
  
RORY: "Yes, I do. I know how great he is. I knew it before you did!"  
  
LORELAI: "Well, knowing this has apparently not stopped you from dragging his heart all over this town."  
  
RORY: "Not fair!" Her mother was attacking her! Her mother was attacking her on the day of her return from Washington, in the middle of the town!!  
  
LORELAI: "Yes, fair, the fairest, the Snow White of fair."  
  
RORY: "I don't wanna talk to you about this anymore." LORELAI: "Okay, listen, if you don't wanna be with Dean anymore, cut him loose. Let him find someone who does because this is just so. . .wrong!"  
  
RORY: "All right, I get it, I . . .just stop!"  
  
She wanted to run away. The images were still flowing through her mind, silver needles jabbing, weakening. She started to walk away, wanting nothing more than to curl up in her dim closet back in Washington. She had to be alone, she needed the solitude more than ever. The instantaneous joy that had filled her when she had finally found what she sought had converted immediately to shock, confusion and pain. Utter pain. The only true preoccupation she had had in Washington and now her first view of him was this? God, but she was a fool. The worst of it, though, was the fact that Dean had returned earlier than expected. She was forced to spend the day ambling with him, rather than feeling the intensity of Jess' dark gaze. Instead of the witty, stimulating conversation she had been anticipating, she was torturing herself with that one picture in her mind of him virtually plastered to her, whoever she was. She smiled at Dean. Any appearance of happiness on her part was sheer deception. He had really done this???? [pic] 


	4. Chp 4

DISCLAIMER: Everything I've said before  
  
  
  
"Controlling, defining, and we're sinking deeper."  
  
-Tool  
  
  
  
  
  
The ceaseless drone that had, at first, been an assaulting cacophony had now been regulated to a meaningless hum that hovered on the edge of his consciousness. True to his agreement with Luke, he had awakened inhumanly early this morning, as he had every morning, to assist his uncle with the breakfast crowd. He actually was not all that objected to the sacrifice of sleep. Sleep Town in the early morning had its rewardingly quiet moments. Often, he found himself at the bridge, feet dangling over the surface of the water, while his brain perused his latest literary pursuit.  
  
Something ran along his skin and he paused his repetitive action of wiping the counter to look up at his surroundings. She had just entered the diner with her usual companion, who seemed to be sniffling. He drank in the image standing before him, her hair reflecting brown highlights as it lay glinting in the sun. His eyes found the counter once again and he wondered how clear he thought he could make its surface.  
  
She had returned a little while now and they were yet to speak. He had, of course, known of her arrival. Shane had wanted to visit the town's little summer offering and who had he been to deny himself some amusement? It was a way to pass the time. His first vision of her had been after he'd raised his head from Shane's to capture a few moments' breath. Leaning against the tree, his head back and tilted slightly upwards, his slit eyes abruptly absorbed a familiar figure clad in a rather becoming dress. Her back was to him, her face was tilted up to look at Bag Boy. The unexpected and undesired delight at distinguishing her figure was instantly replaced by hard-edged bitterness as he saw her clasp Dean and walk away. Away from him. She probably had not even seen him standing there. He was perhaps not even a thought to her. Deep down, though, he knew that to be falsehood. But if she insisted on being stubborn, if she wanted to persevere with that farce of a relationship with Bag Boy, he would let her.  
  
Just out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that Luke was serving them, sparing him of that experience. Checking his watch, he whipped out his book from beneath the counter and, finding his page, resumed reading. He was unsure of whether or not Shane would be paying him a visit.  
  
He heard her voice; she was but mere feet away from him. Feet away with a gaping gulf in between. What paths led there? Shaking away such fruitless thoughts, he once again focused his attention on the novel but he was aware that Shane had come into the diner.  
  
SHANE: "Hey."  
  
JESS: "Hey." He leaned over and met her halfway as she kissed him.  
  
SHANE: "So?"  
  
JESS: "One sec."  
  
SHANE: "Jess."  
  
JESS: "Relax." Casting Rory a sidelong glance, he closed the book and announced to Luke, "I'm out." He looked at Shane. "Let's go."  
  
SHANE: "Okay."  
  
He left the diner, thoughts stirring in his brain. Had he misread the expression in those sparkling sapphires? Had he only wanted to see that naked trace of anguish lying in their depths? God knows, Rory was not a master at concealing her emotions, especially not from him but he would not let himself fall from the safety in which he had wrapped himself. He would not.  
  
Keeping well clear of the bridge, he and Shane found a secluded patch of grass where he tried to remove the pained pools that haunted his vision.  
  
  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
  
  
He had seen her come into the market. In fact, he had amusedly witnessed her banter with her mother while idly tracing the edges of some random box with his fingers. The streetlight captured her in its luminescence. It was not right that something so artfully artificial should embellish the glory of a creature so innocently natural. Standing there, looking at her, he lost the battle against himself. Alone, with her splendour there for him to bask in, he could let his guard down. It was very hard to support that wall against her insistent warmth.  
  
Unaware of her exact location in the store, he silently willed her to come to him, so that he could be inches from her; so that he could again be close enough to feel her breathe, rather than have the distant glimpses he had been allowed since she had returned. A sound distracted him and he looked up: there she was. Their eyes met and he saw the same expression that he had observed earlier in the diner. That quickly disappeared, though. He decided to shatter the silence. The silence of more than six weeks.  
  
JESS: "Doing a little shopping?"  
  
RORY: "Yes. Excuse me." He saw the set of her face as she started to move away. Her behaviour irked him but not so much so that he was willing to lose this opportunity to talk to her. He put out his arm to prevent her from moving away.  
  
JESS: "Why the cold shoulder?"  
  
RORY: "No cold shoulder. I just have perishables here."  
  
JESS: "Oh yeah, you wanna get home before that beefaroni goes bad."  
  
RORY: "My mom's waiting for me." This time she did move away and he followed her, wanting, needing to hear her voice.  
  
JESS: "How was Washington?"  
  
RORY: "Fine."  
  
JESS: "Do anything interesting?"  
  
RORY: "Nope."  
  
JESS: "Okay." So she apparently did not want to talk. This was something about which he expected her to have been excited. She did not seem enthused.  
  
RORY: "What about you?" JESS: "What about me?" He smiled inwardly. She was concerned. And he had an idea what caused her interest.  
  
RORY: "Anything interesting happen? This summer, I mean." JESS: "Nope." He could be as uninformative as she.  
  
RORY: "Really?"  
  
JESS: "Really."  
  
RORY: "So nothing happened this summer, at all?"  
  
JESS: "It was hot. Two weeks ago there was a run on snowcones. Machine broke, people went crazy, Taylor tried to call in the National Guard, but -"  
  
RORY: "I'm not talking about snowcones."  
  
JESS: "What are you talking about then?" He knew perfectly well what she meant. He wondered if she would admit it.  
  
RORY: "Nothing."  
  
JESS: "Her name's Shane." He gave in.  
  
RORY: "As in 'come back'?"  
  
JESS: "Yup." Inwardly he was having a fit of laughter at her literary reference.  
  
RORY: "Well, great. That's great. Really, it's great."  
  
JESS: "So I've heard." A smirk hovered on his lips.  
  
RORY: "Well, it is." She was suddenly so eloquent. He decided to confront it.  
  
JESS: "Are you upset about something?"  
  
RORY: "No."  
  
JESS: "I mean, me and Shane -"  
  
RORY: "What about you and Shane?"  
  
JESS: "I don't know, it didn't exactly bring a smile to your face."  
  
RORY: "Well, I'm still freaked out about the, uh, snowcone machine."  
  
JESS: "Okay."  
  
RORY: "I could care less about you and Shane."  
  
JESS: "Good."  
  
RORY: "It just surprised me, that's all."  
  
JESS: "Why?" Ah, an opening. This would be interesting.  
  
RORY: "Because."  
  
JESS: "Because why?" Come on, Rory. Say it.  
  
RORY: "Because of what happened at Sookie's wedding."  
  
JESS: "Ah." A flicker of hope bloomed within him but he fought it, relegating it to a diminutive possibility deep, deep down.  
  
RORY: "Yeah, so me coming back here and just seeing you with Shane just kind of threw me for a sec."  
  
She had really expected something different? After kissing him then abandoning him for weeks on end, she had TRULY expected something in a different vein? He was not a doting puppy.  
  
JESS: "I'm sorry, did I hear from you at all this summer? Did I just happen to miss the thousands of phone calls you made to me, or did the postman happen to lose all those letters you wrote to me? You kiss me, you tell me not to say anything. . .very flattering, by the way. You go off to Washington. . . then nothing. Then you come back here all put out because I didn't just sit around and wait for you like Dean would've done? And yeah, what about Dean? Are you still with him? 'Cause last time I checked, you were, and I haven't heard anything to the contrary. Plus, the two of you walking around the other day like some damn Andy Hardy movie. Seemed to me like you're still pretty together. I half expected you to break into a barn and put on a show."  
  
RORY: "When did you see me with Dean?"  
  
JESS: "At that stupid summer insanity plea the town put on."  
  
RORY: "Oh, I'm surprised you could see anything with Shane's head plastered to your face."  
  
JESS: "You didn't answer me." He had decided to ignore that one. He had a point to make.  
  
RORY: "About what?" J  
  
ESS: "Did you call me at all?"  
  
RORY: "No."  
  
JESS: "Did you send me a letter?"  
  
RORY: "No."  
  
JESS: "Postcard?"  
  
RORY: "No."  
  
JESS: "Smoke signal?"  
  
RORY: "Stop."  
  
JESS: "A nice fruit basket?"  
  
RORY: "Enough!"  
  
JESS: "Are you still with Dean? Come on, Rory, yes or no - are you still with Dean?"  
  
RORY: "Yes, I'm still with Dean, yes!"  
  
And just as quickly that tiny flame in him perished. Construction began once again.  
  
JESS: "Glad to hear it."  
  
RORY: "Glad to tell you."  
  
JESS: "See you around." He'd had enough.  
  
RORY: "Whatever."  
  
JESS: "Right back at ya." What WAS it that she wanted? To tease him, torment him? He was not to be played with.  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N: Notice how both Luke and Jess say that same line "Right back at ya" intheir confrontation with a Gilmore? Must be in the blood. 


	5. Chp 5

DISCLAIMER: Everything I've stated before, with the exception that the lyrics in this chapter belong to A Perfect Circle.  
  
A/N: Sorry if this chapter seems abstract and less readable at first. I just needed to vent. . . something. I really want to thank every single person that has taken the time to read and review what I've written. I appreciate all the feedback.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Screaming, feed me here,  
  
fill me up again  
  
temporarily pacify this hungering."  
  
A Perfect Circle  
  
  
  
He closed his eyes and let the deluge reign. He was caught in a torrent, allowing himself to be torn in every direction., but heading toward only one. He knew not to what he aimed; he was only content to let himself be borne along. The muddle encircled him and he did not care. His submission was but a meaningless one: this world had made others surrender as well. And so. He raced along in the flaming torrent, the pounding drums striking his very heart while the guitars flared, the singer's voice clawing at his lungs yet flowing at the same time, mellifluously along in conjunction with the vital liquid his veins held.  
  
In such an ecclesiastic state, a worship to the martyr of alternative himself, he was free. The sunlight dances upon his face, set in motion by the moving shadow in the trees whose leaves rustled. His body throbbed and he felt at once both need and fulfillment. The latter he found in the surging exhilaration experienced in the moment. Need. Words floated to his consciousness : "Run, desire, run." Run. That's exactly what he was doing. According to "The Beach", that famed but inadequate representation of a good novel, desire was desire, regardless of where you went. He could attest to this but that did not mean that he would let it devour him. His need and desire were meshed into one and even the softest roll of the ocean upon the sand, even the gentlest comforting touch did nothing to alleviate it.  
  
He became aware of another rhythmic pounding somewhere beyond his cocoon of harmonic throbbing. The door was flung open and Luke, in all his plaid glory, stood before him.  
  
"Downstairs, now."  
  
He read the lips forming the words because at that moment, his ears were impervious to everything but the syncopated rhythms swimming through. His uncle stayed long enough to ascertain that Jess had indeed understood him before turning on his heel and heading into the fray below. In one fluent movement, he removed his headphones and stopped the music. He shot a look through the window and, grabbing the book e was halfway through, he followed in the footsteps of his boss.  
  
Jamming the book under the counter that supported the cash register, he proceeded to fulfill his job requirements. He actually enjoyed serving these small town diners; the verbal sparring with Kirk was amusing, to say the least. On his break, he plunged into the world of artificial characters, his eyes riveted to the pages, his mind somewhat oblivious to his surroundings. The entrance of yet another customer registered faintly somewhere in his brain but it was only when he heard the jarring smoothness of her voice that his eyes skidded off their pages and landed on the wall before him. He listened to her for some moments, indulging himself in the pleasure of drowning in her melody. He did not care what she discussed with her mother as long as he heard her. The lull passed and satisfied. He turned his attention once again to the words in front of him.  
  
He felt a presence there and turned to see Shane. A smile appeared on his face and, as he leaned in to kiss her, his eyes could not ignore the figure standing in the doorway. She beckoned them, she seduced them. And when he had permitted them their fill, he lost himself in the drivel of Shane.  
  
  
  
.................................  
  
  
  
He was gazing out into the street, watching as Luke and Lorelai, both studies in happiness, walked on the pavement towards the diner. His mind drifted back to earlier that day when those two had almost walked in on him with Shane. Shane had suddenly become as jittery as a rabbit and so, he had let her do as she wished. What struck him about that encounter was not the fact that the girl he had previously been kissing had been stashed in a closet while his uncle changed his clothes; it had been the fact that he and Lorelai had managed to have a pretty decent conversation. He observed as a crowd of seeming quintiplets stopped Luke's and Lorelai's progress and he watched with interest the ensuing debacle. Minutes later he heard Luke entering the apartment and he looked up in greeting.  
  
LUKE: Hey.  
  
JESS: Hey. So what's going on out there?  
  
LUKE: Ah, just Lorelai. . .dealing with some women about something or other. So we did that thing at the school today. [Luke looks behind a chair] Yeah, it went pretty well. All the kids seemed relatively unarmed. [he looks into the closet] Yeah, I just told 'em about the diner and cooking things, and I expect kids all over town will rush out tomorrow and buy a spatula. He watched, amusedly, the strange behaviour Luke was exhibiting. It seemed strange, but then again, knowing what he did, it did not.  
  
JESS: Checking for monsters?  
  
LUKE: Oh, no, just. . .  
  
JESS: Just what?  
  
LUKE: Just didn't wanna accidentally bump into someone in there.  
  
JESS: What are you talking about? - He was not surprised. He knew Lorelai had been suspicious. Evidently, she had guessed correctly.  
  
LUKE: Jess, did you have a girl stashed in there before? - Jess almost doubles over with laughter but his composure did not slip; Luke thought him unperturbed. JESS: Before what?  
  
LUKE: Lorelai said you were hiding someone here earlier, she said a girl - were you?  
  
JESS: Yes.  
  
LUKE: Jess, you don't shove a girl in a closet He knew that; he had not ordered her in there. In fact, he had been objected to her hopping into the confined space but heck, Shane was an individual and she was entitled to her wants.  
  
JESS: I did not shove her in the closet. She got in voluntarily.  
  
LUKE: Oh, sure. Luke's exasperation was hilarious, though it irked him somewhat. He had not had anything to hide; he did not deserve any reproach.  
  
  
  
JESS: Look, Shane freaked when she heard you guys coming. Next thing I know, she's in there. I personally didn't care if you guys saw us or not, but hey - women, right? You can't live with 'em, you can't keep 'em from jumping in the closet. (A/N- I cracked up so much for this one).  
  
LUKE: Uh, you and I have got to have a little talk.  
  
JESS: Hey, if you're gonna get all Ward Cleaver on me, I gotta go call Eddie and Lumpy and tell 'em I'm gonna be late.  
  
LUKE: Shut up for a second, would ya? Look, I know you're at an age where the whole girl thing is. . .you know, on your mind a lot, and it's probably not helping you to think straight with all the hormones and other things that are raging around in there. My point is that you gotta think about things a little better, you know, the way you act. I mean, if you care about a girl the way you do with this Shane - He decided to put Luke's mind at ease. Apparently he was concerned for Shane's welfare as Jess' girlfriend when, quite frankly, he would be wasting energy doing that.  
  
JESS: I don't care about her.  
  
LUKE: What?  
  
JESS: I don't even know her last name.  
  
It was true. He didn't. Considering Shane's purpose in this little drama, he was not of the opinion that her last name was truly important. It reflected other attitudes as well.that Shane was not important enough to him for him to know her last name. But this was something of which he was already aware. If he could pacify Luke with his sincere indifference, so much the better.  
  
LUKE: You're kidding.  
  
JESS: She mentioned it once. It didn't stick.  
  
She had and it had not. At that point, his mind was already so cluttered with information and images that he wished to get rid of that he had not cared to add another meaningless tidbit to the knowledge in his brain.  
  
LUKE: Well, if you don't care about her, what are you doing with her?  
  
JESS: Just hanging with her, no biggie.  
  
LUKE: Well, you gotta be doing something more than hanging with her. I mean, you got to at least be doing something with her to make her jump in a closet when people come into the room.  
  
JESS: Relax, will ya? All is good.  
  
LUKE: Jess, this isn't right. You can't treat a girl like this, like dirt!  
  
JESS: If it's any consolation to you, she treats me like dirt, too. It's a pretty symbiotic relationship.  
  
LUKE: And that's fine with you?  
  
JESS: Yes, it is.  
  
LUKE: To just go along in a relationship, you treat somebody bad and they treat you bad back.  
  
JESS: That's right.  
  
LUKE: Oh, that makes you happy?  
  
JESS: I'd do backflips but I am way too cool.  
  
LUKE: That makes absolutely no sense.  
  
JESS: It doesn't have to make sense to you.  
  
LUKE: There are plenty other of girls out there in the world, Jess.  
  
And with that one statement, Luke had taken away all desire Jess had to continue this informatively entertaining little conversation. The idea of Rory spun back to the top of his thoughts, not that it had not been there with the discussion of Shane. In Shane, he tried to forget Rory. And that, he could not forget whenever he thought of Shane.  
  
JESS: Don't you have to get back to the diner?  
  
LUKE: I mean, you can go out and at least find one that you actually care about.  
  
He wished Luke would stop the pursuit. He had known about Rory; to have understood Jess a little, or even as much as Luke did, one would have had to know about Rory. Luke had seen it flourish, he had warned against it. And deep within in, he had cherished this hope that it would become real. Jess knew this and he understood Luke and was grateful. The night of the accident when he had been remorseful and lined with guilt, Luke had been a comfort to him. True, Rory had been the reason for is return but Luke had been a stabilizing force. The very same day that Luke had told him that she was happy with Dean, she had grabbed him and kissed him. Then ignored him as if he were not worth the trouble. And still he wanted her. Se had made her decision, though and he was abiding by that. He was not sacrificing himself. He had seen Luke do that much too often. . .and Luke had obtained no results.  
  
JESS: Oh, like it's that easy.  
  
LUKE: Yeah, it's that easy if you try.  
  
JESS: Hey, the girls that I like don't give a damn about me! And unlike some other people I know, I'm not gonna sit around hoping that they change their minds and suddenly notice me.  
  
LUKE: What's that supposed to mean?  
  
His statement had not been that obscure, but he would willingly clarify.  
  
JESS: You fixed any neighbor's porches lately? Or you go on a picnic or you get rooked into giving a ridiculous speech at a high school?  
  
He saw the understanding bloom fully Luke's eyes and saw the defences going up.  
  
LUKE: Shut up.  
  
JESS: At least I've got a little self-esteem.  
  
LUKE: Shut up.  
  
JESS: I'm not playing Golden Retriever, hoping one day she'll turn around and fall in my arms. If she doesn't wanna be with me, then fine.  
  
LUKE: You have no idea what you're talking about.  
  
JESS: Whatever. I gotta go, Shane's waiting.  
  
LUKE: Oh, you mean what's-her-name?  
  
JESS: Yeah, I'll bring you a new leash when I get back.  
  
LUKE: Get outta here.  
  
He closed the door on his way out, remnants of the conversation hovering about him. Funny, wasn't it, how he had arrived from New York and in the space of less than a year, had become like someone who had lived in Star's Hollow all his life.. [pic] 


	6. Chp 6

A/N: I realize I posted this chapter without the disclaimer and * gasp* without the quote!! So I'm doing that now. Sorry to all those who read it before and didn't see it. And thanks very much for the reviews. . . great way to start a day (it's 5:34am here).  
  
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, nothing, not even the words used to write the story. Ok, well maybe I own they way were combined. (  
  
  
  
"Metaphor for a missing moment"  
  
-A Perfect Circle.  
  
  
  
~*~*~*  
  
She glared sourly at both the fountains of water streaming from the ground and her small pager that had not been helpful at all. If Dean were unavailable, she would have to find someone else. She could not simply stand by and let the lawn drown. The ants would never forgive her. Her damp frame stalked on the sidewalk, leaving watery imprints of her sneakers on the concrete. Aggravated and flustered by the fact that she, Rory Gilmore, was incapable of managing the uncomplicated apparatus that was a sprinkler, she paid no heed to the direction of her steps as her predicament made her almost wily.  
  
  
  
Her body slammed into something and upon contact, she knew precisely whom she had encountered, sparking instant retreat in her unwillingness to face him. Tendrils of his warmth stretched toward her and she irritatedly thrust them away as images of his dark head mingled with a blonde one burst onto her thoughts. She knew that Stars Hollow was not at all that populated but why, of all its inhabitants, should she, in all her dripping fury, have collided with this particular one?  
  
  
  
She turned to move away, fully conscious of the fact that he would have seen her and caught between her desire to have him follow her and the more probable idea that he would ignore her. She heard his voice, its honey flowing in her veins and her weakness irked her so much that she wanted to lash out.  
  
  
  
JESS: Whoa, whoa, slow down.  
  
  
  
RORY: Get out of my way.  
  
At the moment she was fighting him but she knew, she KNEW that if she looked at him, her efforts would cease. She would be fighting herself instead. The battle that raged on continually.  
  
  
  
JESS: I like the new look. It's very Blue Crush.  
  
  
  
RORY: Hilarious.  
  
Had he even seen that movie? She wanted to ask him and her recognition grated her already raw mind as she reined in her thoughts.  
  
JESS: What's the matter?  
  
RORY: Nothing.  
  
Suddenly she was nervous. It seemed he cared and that knowledge alone would be her undoing. She did not want his pity. She did not want another conversation consisting of glares, bitterness and veiled accusations. She wanted. . .God damn her for what she wanted.  
  
  
  
JESS: You're walking pretty fast for nothing.  
  
  
  
RORY: Well, our President said exercise and I am very patriotic.  
  
  
  
JESS: And completely soaked.  
  
  
  
Somewhere in her head, she was smiling. How keenly observant of him.  
  
RORY: Where is everyone?  
  
  
  
JESS: Who are you looking for?  
  
  
  
Anyone but you. Anyone without those piercing eyes that seem to smile only at me. Anyone whose handwriting does not swim before my eyes, confined to margins and expressing his thoughts. Anyone whose lips I have not tasted. . . satin on silk, sweet softness making me delirious.  
  
  
  
RORY: No one.  
  
  
  
JESS: Rory, stop. What's the matter - other than the fact that you're obviously out of towels.  
  
  
  
It was the quiet plea in his voice that broke her restraint. The quiet plea that anyone else would have interpreted as a quiet order.  
  
  
  
RORY: This guy moved in across the way from us and we said we'd water his lawn and the grass can only be watered in ten minute increments, otherwise the lawn drowns, and the thing is stuck and it won't turn off and I have to find someone, Luke or Taylor or . . Where are you going? Jess!  
  
  
  
He had started to walk away from her in the direction she had most dreaded he would take. Closing her eyes briefly she inhaled and then hurried after him. She did not want a favour from him. She followed him as he determinedly made his way up the front yard that was slowly transforming into a pool, watching as the water rained on him so that he was instantly on his way to matching her soggy condition.  
  
  
  
RORY: You don't have to do this. I didn't ask you to do this. I can just find someone else to do it. [Jess turns off the sprinkler] Aw, you made it look so easy.  
  
  
  
JESS: Yeah, it was loose. You just had to press down and give it a good twist, that's all.  
  
  
  
RORY: Well, thank you.  
  
Her eyes captured his, denoting his transfixed expression at her gratitude. Something delicate wavered in their depths and the surreal quality of her environment gripped her. Here he was. . .his self. . . the one she knew; the one she adored.  
  
  
  
JESS: You're welcome. So things are good?  
  
  
  
His question and its complete unexpectedness pulled something within her. She did not even bother with the pretense of disguising her delight. Her face was rosy.  
  
  
  
RORY: Oh, yeah, really good.  
  
  
  
JESS: School?  
  
  
  
RORY: Good.  
  
  
  
JESS: Still gonna do the Harvard thing?  
  
  
  
RORY: Yeah.  
  
  
  
JESS: Good.  
  
  
  
RORY: Yeah, good. So. . .  
  
She was suddenly so articulate. It was being taken unaware and not wanting to ruin this very fragile moment when he had desisted from emanating such frigidity. His words were an endearing embrace and she wished she could prolong everything; halt time at that precise instant so that the sanctuary of the moment would not escape her and change into a fleeting, wishful memory.  
  
[pager goes off] My pager.  
  
  
  
JESS: Yeah, I figured.  
  
  
  
[Rory checks the pager, then puts it away]  
  
  
  
JESS: Who is it?  
  
  
  
She saw it shattering, its splinters screaming in every direction. Even as the words slid from her tongue, she clung to the prayer that it would remain intact, all the while knowing of the futility of such hope.  
  
  
  
RORY: It's, uh, Dean. I paged him earlier to come over and help me and he just got the message, so he's. . .  
  
  
  
JESS: Coming over to help.  
  
  
  
RORY: Yeah.  
  
  
  
JESS: Okay.  
  
  
  
She watched, forlorn, as his face became shuttered, bewilderment creeping into her as she saw him lean over and set the water coursing through the air once more. She was encased once again by the falling drops, resentment and regret duelling within her as her eyes said farewell to his retreating figure.  
  
  
  
~*~*~*  
  
  
  
She tapped her foot rhythmically on the step below below the one on which she sat. Water trickled down her face, dripping onto the plaid skirt of her uniform and she irritably dashed it away, only to have natal drops tracing anew a course on her skin. Soaked and uncaring, she stared unseeingly at the driveway of Dwight's house, such a sight to behold with the relentless artificial rain. Fresh movement captured her vision and she refocussed her blank gaze on the figure hesitantly approaching her. Concern marked hs features and she could only suppose that this had not been the first time he had addressed her.  
  
  
  
She quite literally almost jumped from her perch on the porch and, dragging a hand across her face, offered him a smile. Observing that he was halfway to her drenched state, regret tripped through her and she hastened to explain. Inexorably, she found herself babbling as a smile crossed his face. He leaned over to turn the valve that would deprive the sprinklers of their ammunition. With a semblance of vertigo, she saw his hands assuming the same position that another pair of hands had done only minutes ago. Memory and reality melded into one solitary frame in her sight, causing her to knowingly deceive herself, watching his hands, HIS hands, kill the sprinklers in an act of friendship towards her. For those crystal moments ripped out of time, he had been the Jess reserved only for her and she had felt the urge to snatch him and place him in a glass, to have him there for eternity in that amicable state that soothed her existence.  
  
  
  
She heard herself bid Dean farewell. She felt herself kiss him peremptorily on his cheek, with the intention of returning home to remove her soggy apparel. Her lawn seemed incredibly thirsty in comparison with Dwight's, she noticed waywardly as she closed her front door, collapsing in all her sprinkler cleanliness against it.  
  
  
  
  
  
~*~*~*  
  
  
  
She pointed her toes, flexing the inert muscles lying sprawled on her bed. The feel of the sheets beneath her legs was hypnotic; the softness of her pillow supporting her head was luxurious. Inhaling, she attempted to revive her inactive body. Had her eyes not been alert basins of blue, one would have deemed her asleep. The compote of oxygen, nitrogen and various other gases pooled momentarily in her lungs and she sighed in exhalation, restlessly slipping to lie on her side. Her fingers gently ran along the edge of the book and then the most wanton thought brought first a smile, then encouraged the silent shaking of her shoulders. Scared of losing restraint, she buried her face in the feathered pliability of her pillow as she succumbed to the hilarity of the memory.  
  
  
  
"Oh geez!" were the words rebounding in her head during her quiet convulsion of laughter. They were the words that had left Jess' mouth that weekend morning in the diner. The only words. He had fled instantly to his hallowed refuge of the upstairs apartment. She had thought Luke's reaction to the mother breast-feeding her baby funny; Jess' reacton had been downright comical. She had to wonder why he provoked such myriad reactions in her, the most dominant one being a smile on her face. He made her feel anger, pain, joy, contentment. . . peace. Indifference slipped into oblivion where he was concerned. He was where her passion lay. 


	7. Author's Note

Diana : I've tried looking you up according to author's name but there are so many Dianas and I have no idea which one you are. Sorry, I don't have AIM. I have ICQ and MSN if you have any of those. APC rocks!! Tool rules.I wish I could write like Maynard. I think the man's a genius. Drop me a line. I'd love to talk about them with you!!  
  
Everyone else: * bakes brownies and passes them out * Thanks so much for reviewing!! 


	8. Chp 7

A/N: Sorry for the long spate. A distraction called school. *Glares*  
  
DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything Gilmore Girls-ish.  
  
  
  
  
  
"So pardon me while I burst into flames."  
  
-Incubus  
  
  
  
  
  
She sauntered out of her room, mischievous strands of her hair trailing along her neck as they escaped the narrow confinement of the black hair- band, which kept the mass of brown at bay. She rolled her neck languorously, gently massaging the tension at its base. She had been reading too long, she deduced, her stomach kissing the bed; her shoulder somewhat hunched as she propped her head. She closed her eyes, inhaled and then strode toward the couch, switching on the television. She thought her eyes probably needed a bit of colourful diversion for a change.  
  
  
  
It was just her luck, was it not, that what greeted her was an advertisement for the new Toyota. The freshly implanted image of another new car was triggered. To be technical, the car itself was not new but the very idea that he owned a car was new, to her and to the entire town. Seeing him settled in the driver's seat, his hands resting comfortably on the dark steering-wheel, suscitated enchanting memories of him in another vehicle, HER vehicle, as a teasing smile played across his lips. It had been such an intimate interlude with only inches between them, illuminated by the ashen light of the moon and the soft glow of the streetlights as they drove past. She had cherished the proximity and in her attempt to delay the serenity of being near him, she had instigated a harmless crash that had sent him away. And now the contentment of that calm was fractured.  
  
  
  
The cold sleekness of her watch on the delicate juncture of her wrist suddenly held her attention and, absorbing the information it offered, she decided to pay Lane a visit. She really did have to find some sort of a gift to present to her soon-to-be step-mother. And how she was desperate for ideas.  
  
  
  
*~*~*~*~  
  
  
  
Walking in the general direction of the diner, she was inwardly squirming at the clichéd blanket folded at the bottom of her shopping bag. This would, after all, be her first sibling. She did not care to much for being branded the older sister without enough consideration to give a more thoughtful contribution to such an important creature in her life. Still, she was fond if the possibility of the baby growing up and remaining attached to the blanket that had come from her, Rory, the elder sister. The thought carried a rather charming sentimentality.  
  
  
  
The sight of the latest car in town did not escape her. Conscious of the nostalgia it had invoked earlier, she placed her attention elsewhere but her intentions had been doomed from the moment she neared its vicinity. She was like the rest of the town where that car was concerned. Its origins were a mystery. While she would like to think that he had obtained it in some underhanded manner, she knew him much better than that. Yes, he had sabotaged someone else's snowman so hers would win the competition; yes he had chalked the outline of a supposedly dead person but these were harmless acts. Stealing a car was a felony and though Jess was capable of such a deed and had probably been involved in similar capers in New York, she did not think it plausible that he had stolen this one.  
  
  
  
Fully intending to head in the opposite direction (for there was a car, there was an owner nearby), she took notice of the expression marking Lane's features.  
  
  
  
LANE: That's new.  
  
RORY: Is it?  
  
LANE: I've never seen it before, and I'm very into the minutia around here.  
  
RORY: That's for sure.  
  
LANE: Do you know whose it is?  
  
RORY: Yup.  
  
LANE: Whose?  
  
RORY: Jess'.  
  
LANE: Jess? Jess, the guy who wrecked your car? He's got a car now?  
  
RORY: Mmhmm, looks that way.  
  
LANE: That's outrageous! That's a travesty!  
  
RORY: It's not that big a deal.  
  
LANE: Oh, it's a humongous deal.  
  
RORY: You're taking this very hard.  
  
LANE: Because we're best friends, Rory. We're linked. I feel what you feel. Except for right now because you don't seem to be feeling anything and I'm incensed.  
  
RORY: It's just a car. It's nothing to get excited about.  
  
  
  
She glanced again at the car and saw Jess approaching his possession. Her eyes shot to Lane's face and her mind rapidly established all sorts of unhappy conclusions. A showdown was lurking in Lane's blood. Rory tried to deflect it; she did not want a confrontation with Jess.  
  
  
  
JESS: Hey.  
  
RORY: Hey.  
  
She was on tenterhooks. He was amicable and was terrified his current attitude would disappear in a flash. Memories of false rain wafted through her mind.  
  
JESS: Hey Lane.  
  
LANE: Hey back at ya, tough guy.  
  
JESS: What?  
  
RORY: Lane. . .  
  
She sighed inwardly. Lane WAS pursuing this, wasn't she; which meant that Rory would have to act as mediator. Not exactly the most comfortable role.  
  
JESS: Something wrong?  
  
RORY: No. . .  
  
LANE: Yes! You have a car.  
  
JESS: I know.  
  
LANE: Don't give me lip!  
  
JESS: Lip?  
  
RORY: Lane. . .  
  
It had been almost an appeal to her, for clarification, for help. she willed this not to happen, all the while knowing that it would occur anyway.  
  
LANE: How'd you get the car, Jess?  
  
JESS: I bought it.  
  
LANE: Really, I thought you might've built it from parts left over from cars you've totaled.  
  
JESS: What is your problem?  
  
LANE: Don't play dumb. You know what you did.  
  
JESS: I gotta go.  
  
LANE: Yes, drive on away, we'll just keep walking. That's all Rory's been able to do these past few months - lots of walking. She's got bunions because of you, mister!  
  
JESS: Bunions?  
  
RORY: I don't have bunions.  
  
LANE: She's too nice to complain about her foot ailments.  
  
JESS: Knock if off, Lane.  
  
RORY: Just get in the car and go, Jess.  
  
He had said he had to go. Please go. She could not control Lane. The least she could do was help him escape this undeserved attack. She had been the one in the accident; she had been hurt. She had walked around with a cast for weeks and still she had never blamed him one second for it; she had never borne him a moment's worth of bitterness or spite. No one else had the right to assault his conscience on account of it. No one. As the words slid from her mouth, she looked again at the car she was ordering him to move. Pink peeked at her from somewhere in its depths and she looked again, distinguishing the well-known shape of female underwear. Realisation splashed over her and she felt the ire welling up in her. This was the purpose of his car?  
  
JESS: I didn't start this.  
  
It was an apology to her but her mind was still focused on that flash of pink leering at her from the back seat. Something within her was ossified; she felt the hardness encasing the vulnerable softness that had been exposed.  
  
LANE: Well, you started it when you wrecked Rory's car.  
  
JESS: Tell your friend to walk it off.  
  
RORY: You walk it off.  
  
She was lashing out, and she knew it. She could not seem to control it. WHY pink lace????  
  
JESS: I'm trying to drive off.  
  
RORY: Then go.  
  
JESS: Geez, how Andy Griffith is this town that people get so excited by a car?  
  
RORY: It's not the car, it's who's got the car.  
  
JESS: Okay, fine, you want it? Take it, I'm sick of this.  
  
RORY: I don't want this piece of junk.  
  
Especially not after it had been the home to what she was sure were indecent acts done with the peroxide blonde from the cosmetic store. Honestly, WHO thought "bloaty" was a word?  
  
JESS: Right. I suppose Dean is already building you another car, something really snazzy.  
  
RORY: Shut up and go.  
  
He had said the wrong name at the wrong time. He knew, damn him, he knew that comparing himself to Dean in her mind would irk her. It always had. It underlined the difference and made the inadequacy of her relationship with Dean so blatant. Yet she looked at him and saw his lips tangling with Shane's and she suddenly could not bear to look at him.  
  
JESS: Gladly.  
  
RORY: Let's go.  
  
LANE: Gladly.  
  
RORY: [to Jess] Oh, and by the way, you left your bra in the back seat.  
  
She stalked off, the unsolicited fury surging within her as she tried her best to force all thoughts of that bra in his hands away from her consciousness.  
  
  
  
*~*~*~*~*~  
  
  
  
The Gilmore Jeep sped along the asphalt, Rory's eyes darting from the black expanse before them, swiftly disappearing under the spinning tyres, back to her mother whose figure was seething with anger. They swerved into the main are of Star's Hollow, Lorelai's breaths becoming sharper and quicker as her anger sought a release.  
  
RORY: I just hope Dad's happy.  
  
LORELAI: Happy? With Sherry and G.G., the five o'clock ballerina? No way. And to think that I sent him back to her a new man? Man!  
  
She had been trying her best to soothe her agitated mother, but really and truly, to no avail. She was in an even worse state compared to earlier that day and Rory was under the impression that something tame like re-arranging a medicine cabinet would not suffice as it had before. A familiar shape captured her attention and she refocused her eyes to see Jess' car sitting near to the curb. She could only imagine what the upholstery of that car had seen. Through no fault of its own, the car was hated. No, amend that. There was a fault. It belonged to Jess. And it was he who incited her anger. Just the thought of that blonde head. She was suddenly inspired. She could not respectfully rant at him and so she sought to relieve her turbulent emotions on the inanimate object. Since she did not have the luxury of pushing him into the lake, this would have to substitute.  
  
RORY: Stop the car.  
  
LORELAI: [stops the car] What? Why?  
  
RORY: You want catharsis?  
  
LORELAI: Yes.  
  
RORY: I know what'll do it for you.  
  
LORELAI: What?  
  
RORY: Jess' car.  
  
LORELAI: What?  
  
RORY: We egg Jess' car. It's perfect.  
  
LORELAI: Are you serious?  
  
RORY: No one's around, and it's just sitting there.  
  
Sitting there, leering at her, with all the suggestive images it planted in her brain.  
  
LORELAI: Rory, if rearranging Sherry's medicine cabinet is immature, what's this?  
  
RORY: Off the chart.  
  
LORELAI: We can't egg his car.  
  
RORY: Sure we can.  
  
LORELAI: Doose's is closed and we don't have any eggs at home.  
  
[Rory holds up the container of deviled eggs]  
  
LORELAI: You want to devil-egg Jess' car? And how is that gonna make me feel better about Sherry?  
  
RORY: Because it's active! It's aggressive! It's destructive, but not too destructive! I don't know. . .can you make something up?  
  
Frankly, she did not care, just as long as she got to damage that concoction of metal.  
  
LORELAI: Let's do it.  
  
RORY: Leave the engine running.  
  
LORELAI: Good thinking.  
  
[they get out of the car with the container and walk over to Jess' car]  
  
LORELAI: You first.  
  
The steering wheel glinted at her in the moonlight, almost winking as it seemed to jeer her with the fact that his hands caressed its smooth surface and not the creamy softness of her skin. She saw his fingers tapping a beat in time to some pounding melody streaked with a ripping guitar riff as it blared from his speakers. She saw his head leaning against the plush softness of the headrest, his eyes staring straight ahead. She saw him in the backseat, his hands roving to remove the lacy pink bra that clung to Shane's body. Rage surged within her, reminiscent of the furor that had induced her to even suggest this activity to her mother. She reached into Sherry's container and flung the hors-d'oeuvre at his car.  
  
WHACK!!  
  
LORELAI: Wow, nice.  
  
RORY: It made a good sound, too.  
  
LORELAI: How'd it feel?  
  
She'd felt adrenalin seeping into her pores; she'd felt her anger connecting with his car in that one moment when the egg had splayed across it.  
  
RORY: Fantastic.  
  
[Lorelai throws an egg at the car]  
  
LORELAI: You're right, that's good.  
  
RORY: Fun, huh?  
  
LORELAI: I don't think there's been a better use of deviled eggs in culinary history.  
  
She smiled at her mother and continued to vent her insistent annoyance.  
  
WHACK! That was for the lingerie sprawled across the upholstery.  
  
WHACK! That was for not stealing one of her books this summer and filling it with notes.  
  
WHACK! That was for the repetitive images of him and Shane strolling across her mind like a slow-paced movie.  
  
WHACK! That was for not waiting for her.  
  
Her hand delved into the container again, only to discover that it was now vacant while the eggs merrily decorated the bonnet, the hood.it seemed they had done a thorough job.  
  
LORELAI: That's it?  
  
RORY: All out.  
  
LORELAI: Damn that Sherry for not sending more home with us!  
  
RORY: Don't lose your catharsis.  
  
LORELAI: Right, sorry. Wait. . .  
  
RORY: What?  
  
LORELAI: Is that a siren?  
  
RORY: I don't hear anything.  
  
LORELAI: Neither do I. It just seemed a cool thing to say at that moment.  
  
RORY: It was. LORELAI: Hey, let's run back and speed off like we did something really awful and the cops are after us! RORY: Run!  
  
They sped toward the car, hopping in and attempting to squeal away. In the end, they had to falsify that perfect bit of ending to their crime but they did not care. Catharsis, they had achieved. 


	9. Chp 8

DISCLAIMER : Once again, I re-iterate : I don't own anything here. Check Palladino and the WB.  
  
  
  
"Your blood in mine."  
  
-Jonathan Davis of Korn  
  
  
  
  
  
Yearning. Rampaging through him. Yearning. Ice in his veins. Yearning. Blazing in his soul. Brown silk flashed before him, the canopy of her hair. Lithe movements serenaded his eyes and he drank the picture, sipping from this mirage in the desert. Let him delude himself that the view was exclusively his, by divine rights. Soft light shadowed his gaze, the colours of the room swirling in mock imitation of the dancers dispersed across the floor. Kirk's whip of a body pranced by and he snickered. A dance marathon. Only in this town, he knew, and only because her presence warranted his. At the thought of her, his body pulsed and his eyes returned to her, swaying with her mother as her gaze was locked firmly on Bag Boy. He laughed inwardly, as Bag Boy made him conscious once again of Shane's fingers gliding up and down his arm. They both served the same function, he supposed, although with him, there existed no illusions where Shane was concerned. All his delusions lay at the feet of that dainty red-clad goddess who was monopolising all his attention.  
  
  
  
A whine of complaint accompanied the impatient tug on his hand and he let his eyes slide to the blonde leaning against the wall. Gently, he stroked her fingers to placate her and the petulant smile she offered him was enough assurance that he could continue his observation in peace for just a while longer. Taylor stood at the podium, which, he supposed, was where Taylor belonged: an image of authority but not authority itself. His uncle was conveniently located just to the side and he was certain that merely the smell of Luke's blend would keep Lorelai active enough to be competition for Kirk. Luke's temperament was a reflection of his own: riveted to the Gilmore duo who both seemed oblivious to their surroundings save for Kirk and their fan club of one in the bleachers. Incapable of resisting the almost tangible pull she radiated towards him, he approached, like a moth to a flame, knowing of his weakness, indulging it, tormenting himself, but only within the realm of his mind. He would not let the barrenness encompass his life and display itself. The fact that it roamed freely within his inner sanctum of thought was more than enough concession.  
  
  
  
"Unauthorized persons on the dance floor. Unauthorized persons on the dance floor. Security! Security! Security!" sailing from Taylor's mouth announced his presence in a most apt fashion. The flame hovered before him, the temptress of a beacon, beckoning, enticing and he reached out to embrace her, to drown in her lavish ardour, to bury his head in the inviting crook of her neck and be held; to depart from this Saharan existence for but a moment; to inhale her fragrance and breathe her in. . . to have her essence mingled with the very blood he felt vitalising him. His eyes screeched to a halt on Bag Boy and he retracted his thoughts, with just a whisper of her warmth embedded in his skin. It was enough to inflame him, he recognised as he sat down, his gaze meeting her slit glance, making him seek shelter in the vapidity of Shane, ensconced beside him, knowing it was a lost cause even before his lips met hers; knowing he could not ignore blazing Aurora, searing his skin as she twirled about; knowing that it was all temporary and he could not refute truth; knowing that as she danced, her eyes raked him; knowing after this meaningless interaction with the blonde, his eyes would be loathe to leave his nymph of a brunette; knowing. . .knowing. . . Serenity encased him as he dropped his gaze on her pristine face. Serenity mingled with the intense sensation of feeling alive. His peace, his sanctity, his volcano, all cavorting in one being. She scorched him again with a glance, blue eyes meeting brown and just as quickly as he met her, she escaped, thoroughly unnerved by his blatant appraisal. Hours waned like the waves kissing the shore, and he remained oblivious to it, thinking only of her tempestuous decorum, smoldering, indignant flame now, and then frost in another instant, irked by Shane's fawning attention on him, unaware of his thoroughly lacking interest in anything but the flush in her cheeks. His eyes landed on the curve of her jaw, capturing the soft hue of the flowing light, as it ached to be touched. Almost as if she felt his caress of a glance, her eyes drifted over to him. He saw the internal havoc of the roller-coaster emotions; for him it was almost tangible.  
  
  
  
Had he come here with the sole intention of flustering her? Was that not obvious? It certainly had not been for the remarkably superb dancing, although Kirk's athletics provided quite the enjoyment. As he once again gulped in the quaint picture she formed before him with her period attire and hairstyle, he thought of her inability to hide her reaction. Those raging spots of colour on her cheeks were due to more than applied make- up. In fact, it seemed her entire body was glowing with ire and frustration. Her eyes spiked venom in his direction and he coolly returned her level gaze, wanting, needing this, or any form of contact.  
  
  
  
A blaring, hideous sound crashed through his trance and he watched with interest as Rory spoke to her mother, her exhausted face paling interestingly as she lagged behind Lorelai, pushing herself to keep up. The most entertained grin adorned his face as he followed the fascinating display of the Star's Hollow contenders rushing about the room like a stampeding her of terrified elephants. Shane leaned over to him, openly deriding the sudden activity and sneering at Rory in particular. He slanted her a look of heightened disgust, though she was unconscious to it. At the end of the crazed dash, yet another ghastly horn reverberated in the large room as Taylor announced the ten minute break. He disengaged himself from Shane and slipped out of the gymnasium, in his dire need of refreshment.  
  
He had seen Lane and call him masochistic, keeping in mind their last encounter, but he decided to approach her. She was after all, the guard of the free food. He could not prevent the comments and questions about Rory as they slipped from his lips. Then again, whom was he kidding? Wasn't that why he had conversed with Lane in the first place?  
  
  
  
As he stood watching Lane's mother leave, he felt her: his dawning sun. His eyelids kissed, leaving him in darkness and he inhaled languorously, revelling in the fact that every nerve ending was now teemingly alert, tensing his spine, splaying his muscles. It was vivacity embodied, induced by the sense of her. When he turned around, as he was bound to, he knew exactly which dishevelled dancer would greet his sight. The first razored comment she directed at him sparked his wit into action and he found himself yet again enjoying living, breathing, feeling. Sunlight dripped inside him and flared, radiating and seeping forth to skim the frontiers of his skin; gently stroking as it undulated beneath the heated whisper of her glare. He was very aware of a towering Dean behind her, which made their altercation all the more exciting. It allowed him to further demonstrate a point he had been proving since last year  
  
  
  
JESS: So you can't control when you look at me, but you have to force yourself to look at him? Sorry, man. That's cold.  
  
  
  
How did one explain the power of life given by a single look of ocean-deep eyes? How did one possibly limn the gorgeous feeling of losing oneself in the incalescence of a moment? As he saw the fury written across her face, a smile paraded within his being. He succumbed to the relish of knowing that he created this tempest within her. It was knowledge he savoured, to be tasted, to bask in. To heighten the scene a little further, he grabbed Shane when she made her appearance and kept his arm around her, just barely restraining his laughter as he saw Rory defiantly do the same with Dean in response. And he knew. He knew that the kindle burning within him was not a solitary being; it was, in fact, the extension of the vehement passion seething within her; one force, one energy, one entity inhabiting and uniting their two corporealities.  
  
  
  
His parting remark of "See you in there" held more meaning than it seemed and they both knew it.  
  
  
  
*~*~*~*  
  
  
  
Endless, he thought. Her power of charm was endless. She was livid, perfectly livid, with him, no less, and still she held him there, trapped, chained, almost willingly so. Fury, ire, and suddenly pain. The fortifying banter abruptly ceased and he felt the crevices opening as he observed the suffering swimming in her eyes.  
  
He saw her running out of the gymnasium and his heart went with her, recalling the forlorn on expression on her face. Instinct directed his steps and he sauntered, wanting to give her time before he made his appearance. When he arrived at the bridge, his favourite place in the tiny town, there she sat, legs hanging out over the water; a picture of a defeat and sadness. He observed her in silence, hands in his pockets, as compassion ran through him. She looked so fragile, so delicate. Her radiance had diminished not in the slightest and the magnetism drew him, compelled him. The will to comfort her was powerful, yet he could only do what she would permit. He stepped forward and their eyes met; he was forced to look away. Words suggested themselves in a variety of forms, delaying his response, but he decided on voicing the truth of his emotion. She would be used to it by now.  
  
JESS: Dean's a jerk. Yelling at you like that, breaking up in front of everybody. . .the guy's a total jerk.  
  
RORY: No, he's not. He's right. Everything he said. All those things about you and me, all those things about me lying to him, and messing with his head. He was right. Well, wasn't he?" She looked at him and he did not say anything. How could he? A year's worth of life was finally coming to fruition and it left him stunned. He simply looked at her, assessing and enjoying this moment of actually knowing, without fail, without hindrance, the beauty of her surrender. His silence seemed to add torture to humiliation. "Fine, he was right about me, then. Now go away."  
  
The words were hard to deliver. Hard to pronounce after all this time of keeping them confined to a corner of his brain, for her sake. Always for her. Since he was not known for his eloquence, he remained true to form and conveyed it simply but meaningfully, so that she would understand and know, as he had since the beginning.  
  
JESS: He was right. . . about all of it.  
  
RORY: So, what now?  
  
JESS: You're definitely broken up with Dean?  
  
RORY: Yeah, I'm definitely broken up with Dean.  
  
JESS: Okay. I have to go take care of something then.  
  
He felt her eyes lingering on him as he walked away and only when he was out of her sight did he stop and turn around. The moon bathed her in its lustrous glow, and he smiled, genuinely, and from his core; a smile for him and him alone. Water seeped in and he felt the oases of his mind's landscape, as they sprouted and flourished, vast silver pools reflecting the beauty shrouding them both. He stared, gaining strength, as his once flaccid being was filled and replete; as the hollowness disintegrated and vanished.  
  
  
  
  
  
*~*~ A/N: That was the final chapter. Any and all feedback shall be welcome. I'd just like to say that, for those of you who thought I should have been original, I agree. I was very lazy *smile * It's just that these aren't my characters and so, I don't feel like taking liberties with them; especially not when I like them as they are. I hope everyone enjoyed. Overwhemling gratitude to Jade, who reviewed every chapter; Satz, who did the same and much more; and Diana for sharing my appreciation of Tool and A Perfect Circle. As you can tell by the quotes, they have quite the influence. To everyone who reviewed and even those who read and did not review, thank you for sharing your time with me, 


End file.
